Kaleb travelled forward seasons with Daxel, the young mind relatively untroubled until he was brought aware by a brief mental scream that set the healer's teeth on edge and made his nerves taut. Then, when Daxel was fifteen cycles, Luton's terror came again. It gripped and shook Daxel. Someone touched Luton's mind, nor was it benevolent. Seasons later saw shock immediately ameliorated, as if Luton's distress abated at once. An ongoing sense of deadness in Daxel came and went.
Between fifteen and sixteen cycles emotions surged and swirled in Daxel's consciousness, but only two strong emotions from his twin caught him. One was of sweating panic. The other caught Kaleb completely off guard. Even though the healer, Daxel's mind inextricably linked with his own, had the training and the sense to stay with Daxel and absorb all he felt, nevertheless, the power Kaleb sensed with Luton took all the healer's strength to absorb.
Kaleb felt the power that took Luton's mind and tore it completely apart, the boy left exposed and vulnerable, his emotions discarded with the most callous contempt the healer had ever experienced. He sensed the cruelty with which the emotions were shredded and it shook him to the foundations of his being. He sensed a sudden merging of the twin identities that plunged away, somewhere, with a strength of will the healer was unprepared for and then the identities faded as one. Luton wasn't there. Daxel wasn't whole either.
Kaleb shook. His hands trembled with shock. Daxel's eyes broke contact with his and the young man was on his feet, his body quivering as though he was struck, eyes wide and uncomprehending. His whole body reflected revulsion and terror. He staggered back.
"Kaleb," he begged on a stammer. "I've never felt that, never. Gods, what's happening? My mind! I'm losing my mind!"
Kaleb was quickly beside Daxel, the younger man's mind untrained and vulnerable. Holding up his hands in despair, Daxel recoiled from the healer and when he could retreat no further, Kaleb took the hands in his in a very strong grasp.
"No more," gasped Daxel, his cheeks chalky. The young voice rose in near hysteria. "What's been done to Lute? Who has him? Who's hurting him? Gods, help us!"
"Nothing, lad, nothing."
Urgently, Kaleb stared up into the wild eyes. Daxel, forgetting everything but his twin, looked momentarily down. Kaleb held him in a powerful mind block. He had the immediate satisfaction of seeing the young body relax and knew panic went. Once the healer had Daxel fully under control, Kaleb led him to a chair, pushed him down, then crossed the room to fill two goblets, one of them quickly drugged. Without a word, he made Daxel take the goblet and drink. Daxel closed his eyes. He let his mind drift pleasantly, no memory disturbing his tranquillity. Kaleb's block was strong.
After ten minutes or so Daxel woke, shook his head, and looked directly at Kaleb seated opposite, goblet in hand and his face impassive.
"You were telling me about the day you heard from Sarehl about Brue, lad," said Kaleb encouragingly.
"Was I?" asked Daxel, in a faintly troubled voice. "I can't remember." He frowned in an effort at recall and then began to talk, the healer watching him inscrutably.
After his session with Daxel, Kaleb was left shaken and reflective. He recovered from the immediate shock quite quickly but his anxiety was heightened by the danger he perceived they were all in. He'd recognised a mage's power and knew it was a malign power at that; he knew, too, it wasn't just Luton who was affected. Through Luton, they were all imperilled, because the jump from that boy to an identical twin was simple.
He blenched at the thought of what Luton could now be, after cycles with a mage and at nineteen cycles of age, and shuddered at what could be done to Daxel, through his twin. Kaleb suspected it was only a matter of time before whoever now controlled Luton stretched through and beyond him, to Daxel, Sarehl and even to Brue. A power such as the healer felt would know clearly of their existence, if not now, very soon.
Kaleb was reluctant to call, but he sensed he had no choice. He felt the faint voice of the Mishtok in his mind and it was as cold as he remembered back at the Conclave.
"Fourth Level," it said distantly. "Explain this risk you take in calling."
"Reverence," sent Kaleb devoutly. "I felt I had no choice after what I've just learned."
"Open to me."
Briefly, the Mishtok went through what Kaleb had learned from Daxel's mind, the healer hearing at the end a faint whisper, or, Kaleb thought, it could have been a sigh.
"The mind of a mage," said the dispassionate voice ruminatively. "There's a disturbance in the aethyr in southern Ambros -." There was perturbation in the urbane voice. "Thank you, Fourth Level. You've been most helpful. You'll continue to use your discretion with the brothers."
"Reverence."
"I find it a blessing Adept Leon's very near you. He'll be able to assist in creating deeper blocks for those who could be touched, hurt and used. He should enter Krynn a few weeks from now. Maintain a full block on the young man, Fourth Level. We want no further abuse of that young one. His twin's fate is tragedy enough."
"I understand, Reverence."
~~~
Daxel went to the healer once more. Kaleb sensed he was completely relaxed. Daxel spoke unresisting about his past. Kaleb scarcely had to prompt him. He answered the healer unhesitatingly and without flinching. He finally learned to accept.
Kaleb talked with Daxel about Luton, purely on a superficial level. The healer sensed no guilt in Daxel about his twin, just desperate yearning certainly, regret too, but no self-blame. This afternoon, Kaleb was away with his musings, unaware of the curious look he got from Daxel.
"Private thoughts?" Daxel asked.
"Aye," apologised the healer, idly swinging a leg over the edge of his chair. He looked hard at Daxel. "Do you need me anymore, lad?" Daxel's dark eyes were thoughtful, then he grinned and rose to his feet.
"No, Kaleb, I don't think I do."
"No," Kaleb agreed, grinning up amiably at the tall young man. "I don't think you do either."
He watched Daxel stride to the door, where the young man paused to look back with an impudent wave. He looked, Kaleb thought, much younger.
~~~
Kaleb found Sarehl in the office the King had set up strictly for the use of the Strategos. It was extremely comfortable with capacious chairs, cushions and deeply piled rugs. With winter creeping closer, the fire was never allowed to die and blazed merrily with considerable warmth. Sarehl's desk was covered with sheets of paper and maps. A large parchment sheet was open, obviously the point of a recent discussion, because Kaleb entered just as Sarehl escorted the Lord Chamberlain and the senior members of the King's council to the door. When Sarehl came back in, he brushed a hand across his eyes and his voice was worn.
"I seem to have to repeat myself so much."
"Don't they understand?" asked Kaleb sympathetically.
"Yes," answered Sarehl, with a trace of impatience. "They all understand perfectly well, but they can't agree, so each one asks me to repeat my suggestion." He gritted his teeth. "It makes me think a benevolent tyranny has much to recommend it. At least one would get things done."
Kaleb looked measuringly at Sarehl, then strolled over to a table that was littered with documentation, under which he tried to find wine and clean goblets. He carried a full goblet across to the desk, where Sarehl stood staring down frowningly, and held it out.
"I hate to compound your problems, my friend, but can you spare me a little of your time?" Sarehl's head came up at that and his glance was keen.
"Yes?"
"I've been talking with Dase, as you know."
"Yes, I do. You've helped him a great deal and have my gratitude. Our debt to you's enormous. And?" The look that went with the question was intent.
"The lad's done very well," Kaleb admitted with a smile. "I think he'll find it considerably easier to live with himself." The healer paused before continuing - Sarehl didn't miss the hesitation." The day before yesterday, Sarehl, we attempted to trace Lute and find out all we could about him." The heal
er paused again, his heart wrung when he looked into the dark, watchful eyes.
"Tell me the worst, my friend," said Sarehl, unconsciously straightening and bracing himself. "I can tell how disturbed you are." As Kaleb had done times before, he wondered if Sarehl was talented.
"We recalled memories Dase had completely forgotten and may be what Ensore wanted the boy to talk about. They were profoundly disturbing. He sensed Lute as I imagine only a twin can. It was extremely distressing and harrowing for him to have to re-live it again, so I'm very glad the lad accepted my offer to accompany him back. I've blocked the memories." There was a longer pause. "Sarehl, Lute's suffered in an indescribable way." Sarehl's gaze never wavered, but the healer noticed the slender hand holding the goblet shook.
"Go on," said Sarehl quietly.
"I don't intend you to undergo unnecessary pain, Sarehl, so I refuse to go into details. Suffice it to say that Lute's now under the control of a malign power, someone you and I couldn't comprehend."
"A reader-seeker perhaps?" asked Sarehl huskily, through suddenly dry lips. He licked them. Kaleb shook his head.
"More powerful than an Adept, my friend."
"Are you an Adept, Kaleb?"
"No, I'm a Level Four. An Adept is well beyond that, but even an Adept couldn't, wouldn't, do what I sense this power's done to Lute." Sarehl almost shouted.
"What's he done, damn him?" The hands gripping the goblet tightened until the knuckles whitened.
"He's insensible, numbed if you like. He can't, I suspect, feel anything physical or emotional unless he's briefly permitted to. But Lute did something with Dase that's so unexpected and I'm sure it happened when Ensore was with him. Lute melded, in totality with Dase, then took that meld to a depth, somewhere in him, where I can only guess he felt it was safe from whoever stripped his emotions, then tried to partially destroy his mind. Dase has lost all sense of feeling of part of himself. That's why he can't sense his brother. Lute's become passionless, Sarehl."
"Why?" Sarehl sank into a chair with his head in his hands. "In the name of any gods, why?"
"So he can be used, my friend," replied Kaleb slowly, "though I can't answer the motive for using the boy so."
"Who has him?" asked Sarehl in a whisper. "Oh gods, Kaleb, what've we done to deserve what's happened to us? Has our family transgressed so badly in the past we're being punished now? I was meant to die, Bethel's taken by the warlord and Lute's taken and drained by a power stronger than you say we can understand. I even wonder if we were all meant to die, the twins on a slave caravan, even Bethel after Lodestok finished with him – Brue, too? And Chlo? Was she marked for death by someone other than the warlord?" Sarehl didn't see the sudden arrested expression on the healer's face, because he softly wept. Kaleb quickly crossed to his side and went to his knees beside the chair.
"Sarehl," he said in a kindly voice, "it's best we know. It's ignorance that's so dangerous. I can't say if this is all coincidence, but I'm quite sure it's a blessing Dase came to you when he did."
Kaleb stayed silently beside his friend until Sarehl regained his composure, a strong hand rested on the younger man's shoulder, before he rose and crossed the room to a chair. Sarehl stared at the healer.
"Who has Lute, Kaleb? You know, don't you?" Kaleb shook his head.
"I'm not truly sure, but I've passed my knowledge on to someone who may know more than we do. You can take comfort from that."
"Is Lute in pain?"
"Not all the time, no. He's probably in less constant pain now than he was for cycles."
"Would he know us?" Kaleb frowned uneasily.
"The power I sensed wasn't benevolent, Sarehl. It may well have tampered with everything Lute was. We've no way of knowing what he's become." Sarehl looked worn and sad, his dark eyes sombre.
"There's something going on beyond our understanding, isn't there, Kaleb? I sense we're pieces on a board, moved carefully backwards and forwards, the game poised in the balance. I'm right, aren't I?" Sarehl brushed a hand across his eyes.
"That's quite possible," agreed Kaleb in a damping tone. "It's not a scenario I relish overmuch."
"I didn't mean to raise my voice at you, Kaleb, I'm sorry."
"Your restraint's admirable under the circumstances," was the calm comment in response. "I've blocked Dase's most traumatic memories so he can live without them resurfacing, as they surely would." Sarehl's expression hardened.
"We're beginning to learn a lot, aren't we? Is this power that controls Lute in any way connected with Lodestok, do you think?" Kaleb looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"Of that I can't be sure," he responded cautiously, "but it's certainly possible." He felt it was more than highly likely but sensed even more that Sarehl needed peace of mind.
"If it's so, then he has two out of six," murmured Sarehl. "There may've been only five, had I died as I know I was meant to."
"Aren't you being fanciful?" suggested Kaleb, though exactly the same thought had occurred to him. Sarehl shook his head. The healer raised an eyebrow. "Two out of six?"
"Lute and Bethel. Three of us escaped and none of us knows whether Myme Chlo's alive or dead. I just pray Scholar was able to get away and took her with him - I know he would if he could. The thought that what was done to Mam and Bruno could also have been done to her is -." Sarehl couldn't go on and he drank hastily.
Kaleb downed the rest of his wine and rose stiffly to get more. He took Sarehl's goblet too. There was a long silence while Sarehl grappled with emotions. Kaleb was well aware that his friend needed time to come to terms with Luton, but was even more conscious he couldn't let Sarehl have that time. The man was too vulnerable to attack, just as Daxel was.
"Can anyone reach Lute?" asked Sarehl, after a long and thoughtful pause.
"No one like us, my friend," said Kaleb heavily. "It would have to be someone of power."
"Like a mage, you mean," stated Sarehl bluntly. Speechlessly, and with his goblet half-way to his mouth, Kaleb stared at his friend. Sarehl gave him a slight smile. "You forget, Kaleb, I was to be a scholar. Every waking minute when I'm not tied up in politics and military matters, not that it's very often, I read and research in the libraries and archives, everywhere we go.
I know about the Mishtok and the Conclave. I know about reader-seekers like yourself who are Yazd and that there are only three Adepts at any one time, but I haven't yet sorted out your specific functions throughout Ambros, or why your Conclave was formed. I've read, in the more ancient scripts, of references to mages who inhabit a different plane and move between time through the aethyr, using the void to come and go - don't they?" Kaleb pursed his lips and shook his head at Sarehl.
"You're learning dangerous things, my friend. Who else do you talk to about this?"
"No one," answered Sarehl, tilting his goblet. "You or Ensore are the only ones to whom I'd speak of such things. Other folk would think the sun had got to me." Kaleb gave a reluctant chuckle at that, but his tone was urgent.
"Sarehl, you -."
"It's a mage who has Lute, isn't it?" interrupted Sarehl, one hand raised. Kaleb shrugged helplessly, conscious of searching black eyes.
"I suspect so, but I don't truly know."
"Do you wish to close my mind in the way you closed Dase's?" Kaleb looked consideringly at the man opposite.
"I know I should, my friend, for the time being." Sarehl's smile went awry.
"Then do it, Kaleb, if it means our safety. You fear the mage could reach through Lute, don't you?" Kaleb nodded. "You see, dreadful comprehension has come to me," added Sarehl. "I suspect the mage, whoever he is, works in collusion with the warlord and that gives Lodestok frightening power, doesn't it? The implications of that are such that..." Sarehl's voice trailed away. Kaleb crossed to Sarehl and knelt beside him again.
Looking up into the dark eyes, Kaleb said questioningly, "Have you power of your own, my friend?" Sarehl looked down into clear eyes that held his black ones – Sarehl's momentarily clouded then bec
ame as clear as the healer's. "I believe you've much more than you know. Forget for now, Sarehl," whispered Kaleb.
~~~
A healer arrived at the gates of the city, and, since healers were always welcome anywhere in northern Ambros, his reception was kindly and courteous. The healer was small-built, with wispy brown hair and an even wispier brown beard that was quite wild and untrimmed. The man had colourless eyes and looked tired. He quietly asked for the direction of Kaleb, the healer, and was pointed in the right way by an obliging guard.
"You mean the healer with the Samar Strategos, don't you?"
"That's the one," the healer concurred, picking up his bundles and turning in the direction the guard indicated.
Kaleb busily sorted herbs when a voice behind him spoke,
"Fourth Level Kaleb, isn't it?" Kaleb turned, leapt to his feet and crossed the room swiftly, sank to his knees and took the out-held hand to his lips.
"Adept Leon," he murmured. The little man smiled down at him affectionately.
"Enough of that," he remonstrated, pulling his hand free and helping Kaleb to his feet.
Kaleb was a short man and not especially broad, but he looked large beside the Adept who was so slight he seemed to fade when he stood sideways. Kaleb stood back, indicating that Leon should take a seat. Thankfully, Leon did. He watched while Kaleb poured wine and gave a sigh at his first mouthful.
"This," he said gently, "is excellent. You're doing very well." Kaleb smiled.
"An advantage of being with the Strategos, Seignore."
"Yes," murmured Leon. "I've heard much of this Strategos as I've travelled north. He's somewhat out of the ordinary, is that so?"
"I think so," replied Kaleb frankly. "Have you travelled far, Adept?"
"Leon, call me Leon," responded the Adept, drinking eagerly. "And to answer you, yes, it's been a long and arduous journey. I'll be pleased to rest for a short spell." Kaleb looked startled.
"Aren't you remaining with us?"
"No," was the blunt reply. "I'm here to speak and work with you and to see the Strategos for myself. The Mishtok wishes it so." Kaleb bent his head respectfully. "I'll be travelling to join the Chamah's army when the young one returns to it," he added, by way of explanation. He leaned back in the chair with another contented sigh, leaving Kaleb thoughtful but making no comment.